


lostmyhead,

by tumemxnques



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumemxnques/pseuds/tumemxnques
Summary: "George had a breakdown and had to get help." - Matty Healy
Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy
Kudos: 6





	lostmyhead,

**Author's Note:**

> just a sad lil thing to get rid of my depression

George is getting more quiet and closed off with every single day and Matty just can't understand. 

Their album has been a huge success, two years of tour have been a great experience, but now that it is time to make the second album, something inside George has shifted. 

Matty tries to get him out of his shell more often than not, he's successful a lot, but the occasions where George joins the three friends to just get plastered and smoke some weed become less and less. Matty can't help but worry about his best friend. 

He hears the soft, muffled cries through the wall at around 3am and they become hard to ignore. He doesn't want George to suffer, he deserves so much better. He gets up slowly and walks over to George's room, closing the door behind him with a click. George's breath hitches in his throat and a small whine escapes him as he tries to compose himself. He breaks when Matty slips into his bed with him, pressing up against him from behind, holding him securely in his arms. He doesn't say anything because he has no idea how to help George, so he just holds him until the sun rises again. 

The glass shatters on the kitchen tiles with a deafening sound and Matty flinches. He turns around just in time to see George kneeling down and picking up the shards. He cuts himself but doesn't even flinch. The blood drips onto the glass, the white floor, it's mesmerizing in a twisted way. Matty pulls himself out of his shock and kneels down next to George. "Stop, George, you're hurting yourself," he mumbles and carefully opens George's hands so the shards fall from his bloody palms. They smear blood onto Matty's hands but Matty doesn't have it in him to be bothered by it, he just stares at the blood pouring out of George's fingers and the empty look in his eyes. He pulls him in with a sigh. George wraps his arms around Matty's neck in a rush, gripping his white shirt and sobbing into Matty's soft skin where the shoulder meets his throat. Matty knows there's blood soaking the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't care. It's his favorite shirt but he can't think about anything else than his favorite person falling apart in his arms. 

"Can we write, George? Tonight is the perfect time, we can just let it flow the way it wants to." George shakes his head. "I don't feel like it," he mumbles and tries to push past Matty, but his best friend grips his upper arm with a strength he hasn't felt from him before. "George, please. What's going on?" But George breaks free and all but runs upstairs to his room, his door shutting with a bang. Matty hears the sobs a moment later, then a scream, a dull thud, something shatters in there. He slides down where he stands at the wall and buries his face in his hands. Then he lets the tears run freely over his cheeks. 

He finds George shivering and trembling on the couch at some ungodly hour a few nights after, just on his mission to get some water. He frowns as he shuts the tap and walks over to George. "George, mate, you alright?" But George doesn't answer, he just breathes so fast Matty thinks he's going to hyperventilate. "Fuck," he curses when George doesn't respond to repeated pats on the cheek, so he gets up and digs around the drawer in their living room, smiling triumphantly when he finds the crumpled spliff he's been searching for. He lights it before sitting back down next to George, wrapping one arm around his back. "I'm here now," he whispers and holds the joint up to George's blue lips. "It's okay." He helps George take a drag and leans his head against his shoulder. After a while, George stops trembling and relaxes visibly into Matty, his eyes drooping with drugs and sleep. "Let's get you to bed, huh?" Matty proposes and helps George upstairs. He decides to take him to his room, where he can have an eye on him. He holds him again in bed, wiping and kissing the silent tears away that stream out of George's shut eyes. He wants this pain to stop. 

"Maybe he needs to get laid?" Ross proposes, making Adam snort. "Well, can't be the worst idea, right?" Matty rolls his eyes. "Yeah, now tell me who's gonna shag a depressed tree that doesn't fucking talk anymore." They both just stare at him. "Ah, no," Matty protests when he realizes what their plan is. "I won't do that, thank you very much. You ever seen his dick? He'd split me open on that thing!" Ross doubles over as he snorts with laughter, earning an annoyed glance from Adam. 

Matty follows their advice that night. He doesn't let George fuck his arse, but he does surprise him in his bedroom. George sits on the edge of his bed, crying, as usual these days, when Matty enters. He doesn't say anything, just drops to his knees with a painful crack from his joints, and gets his hands on George's jeans. He pulls both the jeans and the boxers down in one fast movement before he can doubt himself. When he spits into his hand, he can feel his earlier bravado leave every single cell in his body. He quickly considers just running out of the room and never talking about it again, but he's sure that it won't work the way he wants it to. He needs to go through with this now. When he finally takes George into his hand, he shudders as he feels him twitch. "Fuck," he curses under his breath. "What are you doing?" he hears George bleat above him, so he groans. "Trying to make you feel good, what does it look like to you, George," he snaps back, twisting his hand in a particular manner that elicits a gasp from his best friend. When he takes him into his mouth, George moans under his breath and gets two fistfuls of Matty's curls. He doesn't do anything, he's completely still above his best friend, so after spit is already dripping down Matty's chin, he releases him with a wet sound. "'s not good?" he asks George and he feels so small, so inexperienced, he wants to scream. George just looks at him with so much adoration in his eyes it makes Matty's head fuzzy. He doesn't speak, so Matty's heart drops in his chest, before George softly guides his head back towards where he needs him most. Matty opens his mouth obediently and sucks him back into his mouth and tries to work him the best he can. When tears start streaming down his face, they're not just there because George hitting the back of Matty's throat over and over again is uncomfortable, but also because not even this seems to make George feel better. When he comes, Matty forgets to swallow for a second, before he pulls off and opens his mouth in a silent sob, George's come dripping out over his lips. George puts his pants back on and gets up, not giving Matty a second thought, who still kneels on the ground, completely devastated, sobbing as he leaves the room. 

He finds the bloody razor blades in the cupboard under the sink weeks later, his heart stumbling in his chest. He knows what these are for because both of them have different razors. He sobs as he holds the blade between his fingers, asking himself where the gashing wounds were hidden on George's soft body. He throws all of them away with a guttural scream, only for them to be replaced the next day. 

He slips into George's bed silently that night, trying to expose the cuts, wherever they were. He lifts the covers from George's body and examines the arms without finding what he was looking for. George's milky thighs shine in the moonlight and that's when Matty sees. The cuts are right there, on his inner thighs, high up, so high they almost disappear in darkness. He chokes back a sob, clamping one hand over his mouth as he lets his fingers ghost over them. They're deep, Matty realizes, they aren't cries for help, they are punishment. He breaks down over George's body which startles his friend awake, sitting up in confusion. He awkwardly pats Matty's back, still dizzy from sleep, not knowing what exactly happens, before it hits him and he's suddenly wide awake. He pushes Matty off with a squeal and covers his hurt thighs, but it's of no avail. Matty's seen them already. "I'm sorry," he chokes out as tears rise in his eyes. "I just can't deal with this anymore." The first real sentence he's uttered to Matty in weeks. Matty stares at him, before he throws himself into George's arms and they cry into each other's necks. 

George slowly becomes himself again after Matty has helped him choose a therapist. He's been opening up to Matty as well about what's bothering him and Matty supports him wherever he can. The boys are back to what they used to be, with George and Matty writing song after song for the new album. It's getting better and Matty couldn't be happier. He's getting his better half back and that's all he's ever asked for. 


End file.
